The Ideal - Dead Rider

Hot bricks!

And gulls give down to candy now

Carpet for miles!

A smile cracks to break

A beak to take and pluck a prize

Dark flavors to taste

What were they those little comforts to beg?

Margins and heat to divide

Outside and hectic

Heart of corruption, diseased minds

Made this, all this

Bubble and swell

Etiquette babies, polite in parlors

Don’t cry

Cry baby don’t cry